Chapter 4

Rohan kept his word for the entire month. Every time Aanvi stripped and offered herself, he used only her ass or her mouth, never once touching the dripping slit between her legs. He fucked her on the kitchen table while Mahesh snored in the next room, bent her over the washing machine, and chained her to the balcony railing after midnight. Each time he finished inside her tight virgin ass hole he pulled out, wiped his cock on her tongue, and left without granting her the one thing she now craved most.

Aanvi’s mind frayed. She began texting Rohan at odd hours, sending pictures of her spread ass, begging him to finally use her cunt. When he ignored the messages she started leaving voice notes, voice shaking as she described how empty her pussy felt, how she would do anything—anything—if he would just fuck it once. Rohan saved every recording.

By the end of week four she was a wreck. She stopped wearing panties altogether so the constant slickness would remind her of what she was missing. One humid evening she crawled across the living-room floor while Mahesh showered, pressed her forehead to Rohan’s shoe, and whispered the words she had sworn she would never say.